Echo
by Seph Lorraine
Summary: Five years ago Ishida Yamato ran away without so much a 'good bye'. Though, one evening Taichi finds him on the street corner of his old home, and now he wants to know what made Yamato leave. (Taito, AU)


Author's Note: (10:25 AM 5/22/2004) Oh my God. I've written something. Beware, if you've read (what's posted of) Got Elegance, the cafe scene might seem somewhat... similar. I'm so unoriginal.  
  
Warnings: AU, Taito, Mild language, Confusing/repetitive usage of pronouns. (unbeta-ed)  
  
Disclaimer: Seeing as this is a -fanfiction- site, what's the use?

--

**Echo** -- By Seph Lorraine_So I close my eyes  
Let the whole thing pass me by  
There is no time  
To waste, Asking why  
  
I'll run away with you, by my side  
I'll run away with you, by my side  
I need to let go, let go, let go, let go of this pride  
Until this echo, echo, echo, echo in my mind  
Until this echo, echo, echo, echo can subside  
_  
- "Echo" by Trapt (2002)

--  
  
Just a few shots, some loudly blaring rock music, hundreds of writhing bodies, and the steamy backdrop of one of Odaiba's more popular clubs was all it took. His head, throbbing furiously with the deep pounding bass of the music, and the small but vicious amounts of liquor he had consumed were taking their toll on him for the night. The massive orgy that was the club now stood behind him, seperated by an entire block of silent, black-windowed buildings-- thank you Sir Migrane.  
  
The only thought in his mind was how much he could do with a cigarette.  
  
He stood silently, lifelessly, on the deserted street corner; the orange glow from a street lantern several metres away cast it's halo of dim flourescent lighting upon the pavement below, illuminating an eerie halo around his sillhouette. His body seemed to move without consciousness, small, barely detectable movements of forward and backward motion that only he could see. It was dizzying, yet he could not bring himself to move any farther.  
  
He really wanted a smoke.  
  
The silence of the street outside of his raging mind was gradually ebbed by the sound of casual footfall, making it's way down the sidewalk, and pausing upon the vision of the lone figure standing on the quiet street corner. It was obvious from even that half of a block away that the brooding creature beneath the street lantern was a bit tipsy-- perhaps even completely drunk. The footsteps started up again, coming nearer the still figure.  
  
The silence took over once more, this time the footsteps came closer to the standing man, and the footsteps stopped all-together. Silence.  
  
Brown eyes narrowed inquisitively, as their owner approached the sillhouetted man, "...It's you." His voice was barely a whisper.  
  
The voice just barely reached the ears of the lonely blond, as he continued to sway in small movements beneath the streetlight. He paused mid-thought, all of his mind's previous occupations going to hell in an instant. He blinked and finally noticed he was no-longer in the club, "Where am I?"  
  
There was a pause, and then the brown-eyed man began to chuckle deeply, "You're on your way home, it would seem."  
  
The silent blond turned his icy blue eyes to gaze upon the street on which he was actually standing, indeed he was on his way home, but unfortunately-- "No... I don't live here anymore." He frowned deeply, wondering why his feet had guided him here. Towards that familiar building, and that well-known apartment he had spent the majority of his youth in.  
  
"No, you don't." The intruder agreed quietly, frowning within. His old friend had yet to even glance and acknowledge whom he was talking with.  
  
As if on cue, the man on the street corner turned to glance at the one whom was now speaking to him, and froze. Animated brown eyes stared back at him with little less than awe from beneath a mess of touseled, frizzied, brown hair, smooth tan skin visable until his shirt-collar. He was taller, and dressed more nicely than anyone could probably ever have recalled seeing him. He wore a deep blue button-up dress-shirt and black slacks, and even more oddly, he was barefoot.  
  
His breath hitched, "Taichi..."  
  
The brunett smirked, "You haven't forgotten me, after all."  
  
Silence, as blue eyes stared in what seemed to be shock at the brunett. A figure plucked straight from his past and placed before him in the present darkness of a humid July night. He was speechless.  
  
"'Was kinda' worried ya' had. Seeing all those e-mails and postcards you sent, and all those times you called." Sarcasm. Brown eyes moved to look away, but faultered, "I'm torn between hugging you and punching you in the face, Ishida."  
  
The blue-eyed man nodded vaguely, suddenly feeling anxious to start walking again. The dizziness was gone, the lull of a near-drunken stupor had died in it's early stages. This was very unexpected-- seeing the Yagami again, and it was truthfully making his thoughts a bit panicked and disorganised. He searched for words.  
  
"I never expected to see you again..." The words clung to his releasing breath, barely audible to even himself whom had breathed them, though Taichi seemed to understand.  
  
"I feared that, as well." The brunett nodding, his curiosity finally breaking, and he took a hesitant step forward, stepping into the glow of lamplight to examine his former bestfriend. And felt his breath leave him.  
  
Ishida Yamato, leading member of the band "Wolves", was well known across most of the East. He had done countless broadcasts from studios in Japan, South Korea, and China, and had even recently begun to make a buzz in the American and European music industry. His face was easily identifiable from the thousands of posters and CD booklets that littered the rooms of teenagers and rock-fiends everywhere, but Taichi had never given those images much thought. He was well aware of the fact: they were nothing compared to the real thing.  
  
He was certainly taller, making him about equal in height to Taichi, himself, and unbelievably thin for a man of 22. His hair was still a glowing golden colour, though longer, now, and falling handsomely across his face, almost covering his right eye. His pale skin was a sharp contrast to his black ensemble, and his eyes were still that piercing, arctic shade of blue. He was beautiful.  
  
They stood in that awkward silence for what seemed like hours, watching each other, examining each other. As if two panthers sizing one another up for the attack. Despite that there was no hostility there, only emptiness, and thousands upon thousands of questions; Why did you leave? What's happened since I left? Where did you go? How is everyone? Why'd you come back? Is your sister well? 'Did you even miss me?'  
  
Taichi was the first to speak, "It doesn't seem your conversational skills have made any improvement during your absence."  
  
Shaken out of his thoughts, Yamato frowned and spoke quietly, "This isn't how I'd have wanted us to meet again."  
  
"Well, we can't very well change that, can we?" The brunett huffed lowly, annoyance obvious in his voice. He waited for the blond to speak again, but after a few moments it was apparent he would have to do the talking, "Look, this isn't how I would've wanted us to meet, either. I was just on my way home, and then there you were, and I guess I sort of forgot myself for a moment." He lowered his voice and began to mumble beneath his breath, "Had I known, I'd've taken a detour..."  
  
The Ishida mentally winced, but nodded, moving his gaze off to the side, face impassive.  
  
"Coffee, then?"  
  
Blue eyes snapped back up, "What?"  
  
"Shall we go for coffee, then?" Taichi rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious move in such 'casual' circumstances.  
  
Yamato raised an eyebrow, 'Well, what better have I got to do than go back to the hotel and sleep myself into a hangover tomorrow morning?'  
  
"Is that a yes or a no?" Impatience.  
  
The blond did not meet Taichi's gaze, "I can't believe I'm even considering this..." There was a pause, "Sure. Why not?"  
  
A curt nod from the other boy, whom began walking again swiftly, along the side walk, taking a right at the corner. Neither spoke a word, even after Yamato fell into step beside his former bestfriend. They walked in silence, sans the sounds of Yamato's boots and Taichi's bare feet upon the side walk.  
  
After a few minutes, the musician's curiosity began to peak, and he found that he could not resist the question, "Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"  
  
The brunett, obviously not expecting this to be the first real topic of conversation with his once best-friend after five years instantly stumbled over said feet and paused to give his old friend a peculiar stare, "What did you say?"  
  
Shrugging off the other's baffled stare, Yamato nodded at the brown-eyed man's feet, his face blank, "I asked you why you aren't wearing any shoes."  
  
"Well, I heard that!"   
  
"Then why did I have to repeat it?"  
  
Taichi stared at the musician like he had sprouted tap shoes and began to dance. Then he paused to consider his answer, "Well... Ah, Sora took them, because her shoes were uncomortable."  
  
There was silence and a brief pang of guilt in blue eyes before Yamato turned and continued to walk, leaving the brunett to watch after him inquisitively.   
  
When they both finally reached the nearest cafe, they entered and sat themselves at a booth near the back wall. The place was nearly deserted, which was understandable as it was the early hours of the morning. Yamato glanced around at the carefully arranged gallery area across the room, and at the vibrant red of the walls, until he sensed a pair of eyes upon him.  
  
Startled, Taichi nearly jumped when he realised he had been staring, frowning at the blond, he began to ponder where to start.  
  
"So, how are they?"  
  
The brunett blinked, "Pardon?"  
  
Elegant blue eyes narrowed lightly, "You heard me."  
  
"Oh..." A deep sigh as his gazed moved to the darkened window, "Well... It depends whom exactly you're talking about."  
  
"All of them." The blonds voice was curt.  
  
Taichi nodded, figuring this was pretty safe ground on which to begin; he, himself, could have thought of no other ways to start, "They're... Alright, actually. I just returned from Mimi's engagement party-- some American guy, never met him before tonight, really."  
  
There was a nod from the silent Ishida, a sign of attention and signal to continue.  
  
"Koushiro's got himself a 'partner', as term would have it."  
  
The blond raised an eyebrow inquisitively.  
  
"Jyou."  
  
"Aa." Affrimative grunting. Translation: 'I should've guessed.'  
  
Taichi chuckled, and continued, "Daisuke's in something of the same predicament."  
  
Yamato blinked, as if to ask, "So everybody's gay since I left?"  
  
There was a brief moment of silence.  
  
The blond began to laugh out loud, closely followed by the brunett, disturbing the lady behind the counter whom had not even noticed they had come in. She came around quickly to take their orders as the two seated men continue to smirk and chuckle to themselves.  
  
"May I take your orders?"  
  
The men came to an abrupt stop and focused their attentions on the waitress.  
  
"I'll have a mocha-cappucino." Taichi muttered, his mirth dying away as he remembered why he was there, and whom he was the with.  
  
"Plain, decaf. Black." Yamato added in a just as solemn tone.  
  
The waitress looked back and forth between them, jotted down their orders, briefly dismissed them both as strange, until-- "Oh. My. God." Her jaw fell open as she gaped at the blond sitting in the booth before her. "Oh. My. God." She dropped her pen and began to breath very loudly, her eyes as wide as saucers, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! ....ohmygod. Are you Ishida Yamato!?"  
  
Blue eyes glanced up at her and the blond frowned, "No. I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else."  
  
She paused and began to examine him harder, "Gods... That's peculiar. You really look just like him! Do you listen to Wolves? I just got their latest CD! It's fab! You look sooo much--"  
  
"Ahem." The brunett cleared his throat noisily, sending a pointed glare at the waitress before she could realize the Ishida was about to throw a fist full of sugar packets at her. She squeeked and scampered off like a good little rodent, and Taichi turned back to Yamato...  
  
Whom was resting his forehead against the table's surface in shame.  
  
After a moment the blond straightened up and turned his eyes back to his former bestfriend. Under the light of the cafe, several things were made apparent about the Ishida. He was paler than usual, almost sickly, and his eyes had darkened several shades of tired. He didn't look like he had slept in days.  
  
"You were saying...?"  
  
There was something distinctively different about Yamato, the brunett noticed as he stared under the cafe's bright lighting. It was almost like his very aura had changed. Whatever it was, it was more than physical, and it was drastically different than it had been five years ago when he had last seen the blond.  
  
Suddenly, he didn't want to speak about the others anymore. He had known Yamato had problems before the blond had suddenly just up and run away that night, five years ago, despite not knowing the specifics of what those problems were. He was sure it had something to do with his father, and his mother as well-- and being as it was both of them, Takeru was undoubtedly pulled into it (which he had carefully concluded to be accurate due to the younger boy's actions since his brother left). The first year after Yamato's disappearance had nearly driven Taichi mad with curiosity, but he had eventually realised that no one was ever going to tell him what had happened to make Yamato leave like he did.  
  
It was strange, how he had honestly never expected to see the blond, face to face, again.  
  
Slowly coming out of his reprieve, the brown-eyed man looked back up at Yamato, whom was staring at him distantly, "...What are you doing here, Yamato?" He was surprised at how fluently the name just rolled from his mouth after not being spoken in five years.  
  
Blue eyes continued to gaze at him, silent for a moment, before responding quietly, "...Band's given me some time off, for this and that..." Pale fingers tugged the edge of a sleeve down over a hand before the Ishida removed his arms from the table top. "I didn't mean to come all the way back here."  
  
Taichi watched the other man closely, taking note of everything that had changed about him, and listening intently, "You didn't mean to come all the way back to Odaiba."   
  
The musician nodded, "But I was in Tokyo, and..." He sighed, "I don't know... I was out of it, and I guess I really didn't know what I was doing."  
  
The brunett nodded for the other man to continue.  
  
Yamato shrugged, his face was impassive, "I just followed my feet to the train station and found myself here. I went to a club for a few drinks, and... I'm not sure -what- I was doing until I saw you in the street."   
  
Taichi frowned; he had been hoping for some more profound reasoning than that.  
  
There was another uncomfortable silence.  
  
"You never planned to come back, did you?"  
  
The Ishida didn't respond.  
  
The waitress hurried over and set their drinks down, and scurried back to her post, casting one last lingering glance at the blond.  
  
The brunett shook his head his nerves beginning to tighten, "Bastard."  
  
When Taichi next glanced up at the musician, he found cold blue eyes staring him down narrowly. There was no anger, though, not from the blond. It was like staring at an icicle.  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to understand." The blond spoke quietly, finally removing his gaze, to stare out the blackened window, which really only seemed to show the reflection of the empty cafe behind them.  
  
"Of course I wouldn't understand," Taichi bit back in a low tone, "No one around here felt the need to explain what was going on, and there certainly weren't any famous faces calling me up aid my confusion. How could I understand something I don't know?"  
  
Yamato frowned, "No, Taichi... You wouldn't, and I wouldn't know where to begin. Or what to say."  
  
The brunett found his anger faultering. It was true, Yamato was never very good at explaining why he did things, or what drove him to do the things he did, and their situations had always been polar opposites of one-another. Though, they could have each given it a chance, "You could've tried to explain."  
  
The Ishida met his gaze once more.  
  
"I could've tried to understand." He finished quietly.  
  
The blond appeared impassive. He closed his eyes slowly against the light of the cafe, "You're so... you." He spoke without warning.  
  
The brown-eyed man frowned, "Pardon?"  
  
Blue eyes reopened to the light of the room, "You're you, Taichi. It's like there's no way to describe you. I could say you are perfect, but then you'd just do something incredibly stupid, and I'd be forced to bite my tounge. Or I could say you are the perfect friend, still wanting to understand after not hearing a word from me in five years--" the blue-eyed gaze narrowed contemplatively, "--but then I realize our friendship's long been over."  
  
Silence.  
  
"You're a paradox," the voice was tinged with annoyance.  
  
Taichi snorted, subconsciously acknowledging the fact that had anyone else said that-- in a pleasant way, he would have blushed furiously, probably both a bit angry and proud, "You were the one who ended it, Ishida." The words were bitter in his mouth.  
  
Frowning, the blond nodded, "I'm not smart, Tai. I never claimed to be." [1]  
  
Nostalgia seemed to flood through the brunett's vains with those words; the Ishida had always been low in self-confidence, and self-pity. He had spent much of their childhood trying to cure the blond, and though unsucessful, he had alway been sure that becoming famous would fix that problem. Apparently it hadn't.  
  
"That's no excuse." He mumbled.   
  
"I did what I had to do."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I didn't have a way around it."  
  
"...Right."  
  
"Damnit, Taichi!" Yamato growled and gripped the edge of the table, he took a deep breath to resist vocalising his annoyance. He didn't really have a right to be upset, anyway. -He- had been the one who left.  
  
"Don't fucking curse me, Yama." The brunett spat back, overlooking the familiar shortening of his former bestfriend's name, "-You- left. -You- ended our friendship. -You- could have fucking called."  
  
The Ishida drew in a shaky breath and nodded, "I know."   
  
Taichi bit his lip, cringing inwardly. Why did it have to feel like they were at an impasse? He didn't want to be angry at Yamato without understanding just what he was angry about. In the end, it wouldn't get either of them anywhere.  
  
"Did you miss us?"  
  
The blond nodded solemnly, "I didn't want to leave, Taichi. I never wanted to leave. What I did, I did out of necessity." Blue eyes seemed to darken a shade. "I missed... almost everything."  
  
"Almost?" It was Taichi's turn to lift an inquisitive eyebrow.  
  
Yamato frowned and closed his eyes against the painful lights again, "Almost."  
  
Looking at his watch, the brown-eyed man realised it was nearing three AM. [2] Though, as he glanced back at the Ishida he realised, that he still had so many questions and things unresolved within his mind; he couldn't risk letting the blonde just leave again, and possibly never getting his answers. He shoved down the pesky inner voice that kept insisting that he had just severly missed his bestfriend and wanted him back.  
  
"It's almost three."  
  
A nod.  
  
Taichi sighed tiredly, "I've had a long day, so I'll be heading home."  
  
The musician watched as the brunett stood, and then slowly stood up as well, each of them laying their pay upon the table and leaving quietly. The door closed behind them as they exited into the warm night air, and Yamato stood, glancing back down at the way from which they had come. He had a long walk back to his hotel-- as the trains had stop running at eleven. Infact, if he didn't find a cab, he would probably still be walking by noon.  
  
Turning back to his old friend one last time, the blond frowned, "I'm sorry about everything, Taichi. Though, that doesn't really mend the situation... I'm sorry things didn't turn out better between us--"  
  
"Where's your hotel?"  
  
Yamato blinked at the interruption, "...Why?"  
  
Taichi opened his mouth to say something than stopped and shook his head, "Nevermind. Come on."  
  
"...?"  
  
"You're staying at my place tonight." The brunett explained before spinning on his heel and heading further down the street.  
  
"Taichi, I can't. I need to go back to--"  
  
Turning in a split second to face the Ishida, the brown-eyed boy began, "It wasn't an offer, Yamato. It was a statement. You simply are. I haven't spoken to or heard from you in five years, and I'm not giving you the chance to run off without explaining, like you did last time. So come on." And he was walking again.  
  
Yamato stood in silence for a moment before simply sighing and following his former bestfriend.  
  
He really wanted a cigarette.

-- **To Be Continued...  
**  
Author's Notes  
  
[1] "I'm not smart." - "Some Like It Hot" Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis, And Jack Lemmon. A very funny film, I thought it was humourous how she kept reiterating that she just kept falling for saxaphone players, and she knew it was wrong, but she just wasn't smart enough to do anything about it.   
  
[2] Strangely, this cafe is open at 3 AM. Also, neither he nor Yamato ever even took a sip of the drinks. Heh heh.  
  
Be warned of the chapter style. It's a bit awkward, since I haven't written anything in a while, the next chapter will hopefully be a bit smoother.   
  
Reviews please? :D


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